Over the summer, Michael had a month-long vacation from his normal daycare schedule. His mom and I thought it would be good for him to have a restructuring transition period at home with each of us before heading off to kindergarten. We would provide a fairly structured routine that would include plenty of activity and one-on-one time.
A good idea, that overall went well.
But there were a few notable episodes that soured us on the experience, such as the time when he delivered upon his poor mommy a tantrum worthy of consideration by the International Olympics Committee as a possible competition event.
All was peachy that day until after lunch, when Michael’s mommy loaded him in the car for the afternoon’s scheduled activities.
One stop on the itinerary was a local pizza and play place for little kids. Think Chuck E. Cheese without frightening, costumed characters and legalized gambling, but with an enormous climbing structure and a vast floor space for dozens of sugared-up children to scamper around with utter abandon.
This is a place Michael usually loves, because it allows him to climb, jump, run and burn off all his energy.
The play structure
But there were a few little issues that were not on his side that day: he wasn’t feeling well, showing symptoms of a minor cold, and as a result he hadn’t been eating well so his blood sugar was probably low. Add to that the fact that he hadn’t gotten a nap that day, and you have a parenting triple whammy if there ever was one.
The adventure at the play place started out okay, with Michael running around and climbing while his mom and Sister S played “War” with a deck of cards they had brought.
This Means War
Soon, Michael’s mommy saw Michael being talked to by one of the staff people, so she went to investigate. Apparently he had been climbing the walls of the bounce house, which was against the rules.
Not long after that, there was another infraction. Then another. Michael’s mommy and the staff got to know each other really well.
And then came the stalking episodes. Michael would start following some poor child around, usually an older girl, and stand there trying to get her attention, or that of her parents. Michael’s mommy had to bring him back to the table several times. One time another parent led Michael back to the table herself.
Pit Stop
On the heels of that were the running incidents, in which Michael would tear around the table area with such velocity that he occasionally careened into one or two tables while trying to make a sharp turn. During one, another mom kindly walked him back to the table.
“He was running so hard, he missed his turn and hit the table hard. I hope he’s okay,” she said. “He probably did more damage to the table,” his mom replied, recalling previous table-head collisions that Michael’s shaken off over the past few years.
Utterly unfazed, it wasn’t much later that Michael violated yet another rule and a staff person came to inform his mom.
“Michael, this is it,” his mom told him. “If you break the rules one more time, we’re leaving.”
Not a full minute after hearing his mother’s admonishment, Michael was up on the bounce house climbing the wall again. Michael’s mommy stuck to her guns. She asked sister S to gather up their things, and together they hauled Michael out.
Michael was not pleased.
He kicked. He screamed. He pulled his mom’s hair. He bit her arm.
“MOMMY! I DON’T WANT TO GO! I DON’T WANT TO! I WANT TO STAY!”
“No. You didn’t listen to me, and you behaved badly.”
“I’LL BE GOOD! I’LL BE GOOD NOW!”
“No, we’re going.”
“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE NOT MY MOMMY! YOU’RE NOT MY FRIEND ANY MORE!”
“I can live with that.”
“YOU ARE BEING SO MEAN TO ME! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
And so it went. My wife did her best to maintain her cool as he raged on, tearing at her, biting her, kicking and beating.
She strapped him in and off they went home.
He continued to throw his volcanic eruption throughout the trip.
Back home, he scurried off to sulk. His mom went about her business, cleaning and preparing for dinner.
A few minutes later, Michael slowly approached his mother, sniffing back residual tears, finally willing to speak to her. She bent down and regarded him with a smile, hoping to hear his heartfelt apology.
“Mama? I forgive you.”
All children should be so merciful.
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September 28th, 2009 - 2:52 pm
You will have to put in the photos of the day. I have one or two good photos of the volcanic eruption after getting him buckled in his seat. Oh and there was a lady in a green minivan who was taking forever to get her 7-8yo kids in the car. She blocked me from getting Michael into the car for the longest time. This was the worst day ever!
Poor sister S had to gather all our things and bring them to the car while I was holding Michael.
(Husband) Those were some great pictures. If sheer fury could burn through a five-point harness, he probably would have exploded out of his seat and incinerated you both. He sure can display emotion.
September 28th, 2009 - 4:25 pm
Wow. I was expecting some very sweet, “I’m sorry, Mommy,” at the end of this post. As an outsider, I think this is very, very cute!
(MD) And it’s a good thing he is so cute, or he’d be up for auction.
September 28th, 2009 - 6:40 pm
Major kudos to Michaels Mommy for holding her ground and making it clear that she was fine with Michael being angry, and then carting him home when he didn’t change up his attitude. I love love love parents like you (well, and me. haha)!!!
(MD) She’s no fool, and she don’t take no carp from nobody. Especially our kids.
September 28th, 2009 - 6:52 pm
Michael’s Mommy is one in a million! I don’t know if I could have been that calm carting him out to the car after all his infractions of the rules. A slap to the backside might have emphasized my displeasure. Of course, as I have learned, slapping a very unhappy child only adds to the hysterical actions of the child. Michael’s Mommy deserves major congratulations for her actions. How did she think so clearly during the volcanic eruption to take photos? Will you share? I have to echo Melisa by saying I do love parents like you.
(MD) We have those pics. I’ll get them put up tomorrow if I can. Michael’s mommy definitely knows how to keep a cool head in the midst of a blaze.
September 29th, 2009 - 2:49 am
Michael’s Mommy must have the patience of a Saint. I surely would have lost my cool.
(MD) She sure has it when it counts, without a doubt. That’s why God made her his mommy. I would not have done so well myself, I don’t think.
September 29th, 2009 - 7:38 am
I don’t look forward to those tantrums. I hope I can find patience somewhere between now and then. Good for Micahael’s Mommy for handling the situation so well.
(MD) Your mileage may vary; not all kids are as violently expressive as Michael. His twin sister (ha) was just as volatile as he is when she was his age, but my oldest daughter wasn’t. The point is to remember where it’s coming from and to not respond to the outburst, but deal with the underlying issue. Of course, that’s easier said than done, and Lord knows I don’t often succeed in that. I’m just glad he’s got a mommy like her.
September 29th, 2009 - 8:37 am
Good job Michael’s Mommy and Sister S. All I can say is Michael comes by those tantrums honestly…there is a genetic link in displaying emotion. But, hey, I don’t recall being forgiven by my tantrum thrower.
(MD) Unfortunately Michael has a couple of intense contributors to his emotional makeup. I’m sure my mom could recall a few incidents similar to this one.
September 29th, 2009 - 2:30 pm
Sister S. could pitch a mighty fit, too!
September 30th, 2009 - 3:17 pm
The outstanding tantrums were a tossup between the gumball machine at the grocery store and the yardage store.
One time I left him at the gumball machine forcing my neighbor who was also a blonde like Tom to claim him and fetch him to the car.
I guess I had reached the end of my tether, so to speak.
Gramann
(MD) Those yardage stores were an exercise in boredom. What kind of little kid would ever enjoy being in a store full of bolts of cloth? The gumball machines were my only hope. And it was only a penny per gumball, for crying out loud.
October 1st, 2009 - 3:36 am
LOL! The gift of forgiveness is a wonderful thing.
(MD) Isn’t it though?
October 10th, 2009 - 7:58 am
Our 6 year old is still having the occasional tantrum. She hates it when we just walk away. That ending just made me chuckle. Mommy so needed forgiveness
(MD) Yeah. She felt pretty remorseful, for certain.